


Vestige

by Skullszeyes



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Arguing, Blood, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Crying, Dark, Developing Friendships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Emotions, Friendship, Gun Violence, Idiots in Love, Investigations, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Minor Original Character(s), Murder, Out of Character, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Romantic Soulmates, Sarcasm, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-01-12 02:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Kryoz and SMii7y are assigned as partners to investigate strange murders concerning soulmates, but their own issues arise as blood is shed, and Kryoz isn't entirely sure if being in love is worth it.





	1. Files

**Author's Note:**

> Yo. I've wanted to write this for awhile since my fic in Ghost Town - Dead Body and A Coffee Cup. :) 
> 
> I've always been interested in soulmate au's, and I've also written a character evaluation on my tumblr (link can be found on my bio), for Kryoz and SMii7y, but since he's quite the person...I like usiing that as reference for my stories now instead of writing him as this innocent nice fluffy person, when in truth he's kind of a typical asshole. :) Lol. I say that with LOVE! <3
> 
> First chapter is short, sorry, needed a base! :D 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciative.

He was almost falling asleep, clutching his half empty coffee cup that has already gone cold and useless, while the taste of it is stale on his tongue. There’s the slightest sound of voices surrounded him within the office, his desk is jostled twice, his pens inside the metal cannister clink together, and he almost hopes they fall so he could open his eyes and glare at the one who did it.

He needed something to wake him up, and when it comes, it’s abrupt and almost surreal. A file falls flat on his desk in front of him, his heart jolting and he sits up right, glancing around him but the one who gave him the file is already gone down the rows of desks. He looks down and finds his name sitting on the side in black pen. He licks his dry lips, and flips the file open, finally dropping his coffee into the garbage under his desk.

He squints, the light in the office is so bright that it bounces off the white page, making the black printed ink almost hard to read.

He blinks a few times, and he sits back, scowling at the paper and almost having the urge to roll it up into a ball, rip it apart, and soak it into his cold coffee under his desk. Not an urge he’s unfamiliar with, he has it whenever he’s forced to leave the building for these types of investigations.

A man in his mid forties, caucasian, was killed early this morning. Seven am. He was driving from work and hit a pole near a fieldhouse. There was barely any traffic around this time, including people, so no one else got hurt. Well, besides the man’s soulmate who also died a minute later, heart attack.

“This is unusual,” he muttered, reading the report over again. There was no sign of the man having a heart attack himself, nor any type of bodily, psychologically, mentally, or even previous reports of serious attacks that could essentially enable him in the time frame of his death in the last twenty years.

His death was quick and painless. There was no outright struggle. No clear evidence to the death. The EMS have already cleaned up the body, while more investigators checked out the scene.

He’d have to find his information in other ways, at least he didn’t have to leave just yet. He gets up from his desk and makes his way out of the office, ignoring anyone who glances his way, and its not many. The halls always seem to go dim around this time, and it makes the building more creepier with its eerie silence.

As he walked, he glanced at the report several times until he finds links to police interviews which he can find in the filing room. Something he does as he stands in the elevator by himself and it takes him to the third floor. He slips by a group entering after he leaves and scans his key card, pushing the heavy door open, and stepping inside the room.

It’s dusty, a stagnant feeling that makes him slightly claustrophobic but work pushes him onward as he finds a computer and types out the codes he got from the report. He locates several files for the accident, including the soulmate who had died, and the police interviews from the close family members. It was all arranged nicely in the last several hours, nothing too difficult for him to lose his patience, the videos aren’t even that long, and he even finds himself reading several transcripts.

It’s enough for him to write out his own report, mostly looking for keywords that some of the family members have already said, taking pictures from the crime scene, and printing out the papers, neatly placing them into another tan colored folder and marking it on the side.

He checks the time. It’s been forty minutes, good enough to lend him a few bucks of work as he leaves the filing room.

This is how his life usually is. Stifling and boring. There was never anything interesting about the outcomes of his work, not when his bosses and co-workers think much about him besides his negative attitude about life. Not like he asked to be an investigator, but his own complaints about field work really bothered others, and some even mocked his skills with the printer. He has gotten better rounding up the information they needed, he hoped he didn’t have to look at it in the morning with their own negativity written all over it.

What did they want from him? It was an accident from the looks of it. An incredibly violent one, glass shattered all over the asphalt, blood seeped from the man’s nose and lips, a few blurred out spaces that made him circle with a black marker, then a question mark.

_Who the fuck is the photographer?_

Other than that, he didn’t have much else to comment about it. He just hoped that at least he’d get some kind of feedback, and maybe a bit more information. He checked the time when he returned to the office, and found he was off work in about five minutes.

It was good enough for him to set the files on his bosses desk and when he returns to his own, about to grab his coat, and he goes still, his brows furrowed peculiarly at another file sitting on his desk. Staring at him with his name printed on the side like earlier.

He was supposed to be done, not be given another job. He could do it later, possibly.

He rubs his eyes, sniffling, he reluctantly picks up the file and opens it to a picture of a young brunette male with an almost sneaky smirk played on his lips.

He’s an agent, and his name is almost familiar.

He blinks a few more times, a slow ache at his temples makes him let out a groan before he closes the file. Something about a new partner, but he could barely focus on the words. Taking the file, he pulls on his coat and leaves the office.

If he gets a phone call for his incompetence, he’d at least wants the lecture to be in the afternoon after his second cup of coffee.


	2. Speaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wakes up and speaks to his friends, but he only now realizes what the inside of the file is.

Three days later, he picks up the coffee pot and pours the hot liquid into his cup, letting out a drawn out yawn before setting it back and stirring sugar and cream until it becomes a nice light brown color and he sits down. He hasn’t been to work, mostly writing up old reports, and trying to get somewhere with that. While at the same time finally remembering about the file he brought over the night he left the office. He dropped it on the counter and was later piled up with newspapers and fliers until he remembered when he woke up.

He sat down, the file sitting beside his thin black computer and coffee cup. Taking a sip, he scowled at the awful taste. Was he still partially asleep or did he forget how to make coffee?

He opens the laptop and the moment he presses the ON button, his cellphone rings from his bedroom table, currently on the charger. The day was turning out to be annoying. He rises and makes his way back down the cold stiff hall to his room that’s dim with the curtain barely pushed to the side. He grabs his phone, glances at the one calling him and lets out a sigh, he turns as he answers the phone and heads back to the kitchen.

“What?”

A chuckle emits from the phone. “Good morning to you too, John,” Ryan says.

He sits down on the chair, closing his eyes, “It’s early.”

“It’s seven-thirty. You’re actually an hour late for work, I’m surprised you haven’t been fired yet.”

“He threatened suspension.”

“Whatever, this isn’t why I called.”

He opens his eyes and clicks on the laptop, typing in his password. “What do you want?” he asked, noticing something on the inside of his left wrist, a black mark that showed up a year ago. He ignores it and pulls up his files.

“There’s been a change in the division, a few agents from another section has been moved to ours.”

He nods, not exactly listening as he looks through the files. “It happened before.” He’s sure it did a year ago, twice in about six months, one of the reasons why he didn’t bother about a partner. Once they woke him up and he punched them in the face, the lecture during that evening was horrendous, not even the beer he bought later on helped his headache.

“Yeah, well, he could at least tell us about this shit beforehand, not announce it on the hour it happens.” He knows his friend is shaking his head, and slamming his cup down, the sound reverberates in the phone and doesn’t help his growing headache on his temple. “I might need to speak to him about these new positions, and ask for a list of the agents. If he isn’t going to be fucking organized, I might as well attempt it.”

He glances to the file sitting beside the computer and picks it up, sitting back, balancing the phone with his ear and his shoulder. He lets out a hum as he opens the file, wondering if he could simply write up the report and send it in through email than printing it out.

There’s something strangely off about this type of file, and he has to blink a bit more, wondering if he’s reading it correctly, or if he woke up too early. The words must be playing with him, or this is a fucking joke.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked, mostly to himself, forgetting about the one on the other end, complaining about the inventory.

He has to be reading this wrong.

“What?”

This is wrong. It has to be.

“John, what is it?”

He’s sitting up, staring and staring and staring as his heart races, and he’s wide awake, more so than the coffee could give him, as the words flow inside his head, and the black and white picture of the man is now instilled inside his head that he slams the file down on the table, rises to his feet, and storms his way to his bedroom.

“Fuck this,” he murmurs.

“Hey, John, you’re on speaker, Anthony’s here for moral support.

He does the same, dropping his phone on his unmade bed as he rifles through his drawer for clothes.

“What’s going on, John?” Anthony says, cheerily, “I’m here if you need to cry.”

“Fuck you.” Taking out a shirt and tearing his off, he pulls it on, smoothing out any wrinkles, but not giving two shits about practicality after a moment before taking off his pants. “The fucker gave me a partner.”

There’s silence on the other end that gives him a moment to yank the pants up, securing the zipper and button. He sits down beside his phone, glancing down at it, scrutinizing the silence as he pulls his socks on.

“Are you serious?” Ryan asked, a stifled laugh makes him scowl.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Why would he give _you_ a partner?” Anthony asked, he’s also laughing, and less obscure about it than Ryan.

“How the fuck should I know?” He grabs a coat from his closet and pulls that on, then picking up his cellphone and walking out of his bedroom. “I’ll find out when I get there.”

“Right now?” Ryan asked.

He opens the folder, ignoring the name and photo. “About the division?”

“Oh yeah, hey, you were a part of that, right?” Ryan asked, addressing Anthony.

He hums. “If you want it confirmed from me, then yeah, the procedure happened during the recent missions and other classifications that were written out about two months ago. It only got cleared on Monday evening.”

Four days ago.

He packs up his laptop, charger, including the files he would need into his bag and locks up his apartment. As he heads down the hall to the elevator, he lets out a sigh and knows he’ll have to ask the question sooner or later.

The name itself was bothersome, but it was right beside his picture. Young in features, but his age only secured that.

“Do you know who SMii7y is?”

Ryan stifles another laugh, almost contagious since Anthony also lets out a short chuckle. “He’s your new partner?”

He isn’t ignorant to not know who SMii7y is. He heard about him, but it wasn’t like he stared at pictures of other agents in different divisions and cared about them. This was completely different, and from the rumors that came from this particular person, bothered him immensely since he seemed almost the exact opposite of him.

“He’s a nice guy,” Anthony says.

“Anything else,” he asked, the elevator door opened and he stepped out into a bright hall that led to the garage.

There was something off about SMii7y that was spoken by others. He had a friendly face, and because the appearance of him may look it, he was actually quite different when he opens his mouth. A lot of agents didn’t even like being in the same room as him. Not because of any type of blood lust, but mostly because he didn’t have a filter. And it was quite profound, since he didn’t let up when others deemed to insult him.

And he didn’t want to deal with someone who had this type of personality. It seemed almost exhausting to him as he thought about it.

“When you get to know him more, he’s actually a really friendly guy,” Anthony says.

He rolls his eyes, the door unlocking as he slips inside. “That doesn’t help.”

“Just get to know him, you’ll notice he’s a lot more different than what the rumors say about him.”

He sighs, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel once he got off the phone with Anthony and Ryan. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do now that the transition has happened. He could easily file for a new partner, or get rid of the one he now has. It’ll take awhile, but it’s not like he had anything else to do.

Before he starts his car, he receives intel to the next crime that just happened from his boss, including a nice remark.

_Your new partner will be joining you, so don’t FUCK it up._


	3. Inclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kryoz goes to the recent crime scene, and meets his partner.

Kryoz slowed the car down next to the curb away from the police cars and ambulance. Another morning where there’s a murder, but at least he got himself a cup of coffee before he arrived. He locked the car and strolled toward the group of police officers. He took out his badge and gave the one standing next to the yellow tape a smile before walking past. 

He stood off to the side, sipping his coffee. 

A car accident, simple enough, killed a man in the front seat, his body was lying on a stretcher, and it was covered by a white blanket. He was being moved into the ambulance by the EMT’s. 

It was a lot similar to the first accident that happened a few days ago. A man had died in his car, and slammed into a pole. It was almost exact, and a little frustrating, but at least there was a pattern. 

Kryoz saunters toward the car, his feet crunching the glass under his shoes. There was one thing that he noticed amongst the broken glass, but the front windshield was slightly still in tact, although spider cracks made it throughout the front end, and large pieces were now missing. However, he had noticed one thing that was off. 

A bullet hole that had gone through the glass and punctured the seat. It looked like it had already been extracted.

Kryoz walked over to a police officer and asked what happened. 

“A soulmate,” the police officer said, and as he explained when and what happened, he pointed toward a group of eyewitnesses, and family members who were doing nothing but crying. “It was sudden, one moment everything was quiet...fine...and then the car slammed into the pole, and he was dead, including his soulmate.”

“Surveillance?” Kryoz asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

The police officer nodded, “We’re already having someone look into it.”

Kryoz glanced to the side toward the scattering glass that was reflected off the sunlight. A pair was killed, and from the bullet, someone had none it deliberately. They wanted them dead for an unknown reason. 

Kryoz turned toward the family members that were still standing on the curb of the sidewalk, huddled together. He let out a sigh and wandered over to them. Another thing he disliked about field work. He pulled out his phone, put it on record and gave the group a smile. 

“Hi, my name is John, I’m a detective for the police department. I’m sorry for your loss, but I would like to ask you some questions.” The group sniffled, while several wore blank expressions that could be do to shock or drowsiness. 

A woman whom Kryoz figured was possibly the mother began telling Kryoz about her son. It was vague. The man worked a steady job, loved his wife, his daughter, and didn’t get into trouble. She didn’t know why her son was killed like this, and had heard about it right away, and rushed over.

“I had to see before…” she sucked in a trembled breath, her gaze going toward the ambulance that was about to leave. She went on to say that she’ll be taking care of the funeral, and making sure their daughter was well cared for without her parents in her life anymore. 

Kryoz nodded slowly, turning off the recorder. “Thank you, and again, I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Kryoz wasn’t sure what was going on as he walked back toward the police officers. He checks his phone. It’s nine-ten, his  _ partner _ was late. Of course he wasn’t about to blame him for being late. Kryoz had done it many times in the past, and he had also gotten a beat cop fired because of it, the reason mostly had to do with his shared past with his boss who liked to keep the friends he has in the office. It’s partly illegal, but that’s what happens when you work for someone like Tyler Wine of all people. 

He’s not going to lie. Meeting SMii7y was kind of intimidating. He heard about him several times over the years. The way he is and how he works amongst his peers. Some had called him a sociopath, others a psychopath. Some simply referred him to as asshole and nothing else. 

_ “He doesn’t care about anyone or anything,” one officer had said about SMii7y. He was annoyed, angry, pissed off. It was clear in his voice when Kryoz was accidentally eavesdropping. “The bastard would let others die just for him to get ahead.” _

Kryoz didn’t have a good impression of SMii7y, and knowing about the change in the division, he hadn’t cared about that until the pieces started to form. SMii7y was a part of that other division, he had been switched a long with several others, and was given a partner to help him fit in.

Kryoz wanted to remind Tyler that he disliked working with others. Except he knew what he’d say way before he’d bring it up. 

Tyler will tell him to shut the fuck up and deal with it. 

_ “He’s withdrawn,” Anthony mentioned earlier, “somewhat callous, but he gets the job done so I think it’d be a good partnership.” _

“Fuck that,” Kryoz muttered under his breath, finally finishing his coffee. He can’t help but feel a little bothered by his lack of appearance, and can’t deny he’s not overly surprised by it as well. If he cared, where is he?

Twenty minutes goes by and he’s standing by himself with a few police officers. The others have already left with the forensic investigator, the photographer, and the ambulance. The family had left as well. There was no need to stand around, maybe he’ll end up finding SMii7y at the office.

He checks his phone again and turns to head back toward his car, but stops when he notices something odd along the light blue toned street with yellow streaking through the sky. 

A lone figure is standing on the side walk wearing a black coat, black jeans and sneakers. His short brown hair is slightly pushed back, and he’s looking toward the police officers instead of the lack of car and victim. 

He doesn’t look like what Kryoz had thought. The rumors had made him out to be more terrible. Although, thinking about it, none of them had commented on how small SMii7y would be, or even the focused look in his eyes as he crossed the parking lot toward the police officer. 

He took out his badge and showed them while asking questions. He was quick and precise with what he wanted to know. He smiled and revealed a bit of that charm Kryoz had heard about. He spent about ten minutes with the police officers before his gaze turned and fell on Kryoz. It was instantaneous, and every little precise expression had faded. One moment he seemed like an open book, the next, he closed it shut.

Kryoz glanced down at his coffee cup and frowned. He wished he had more coffee, it would be better than what was going on now. He can’t help but feel odd in his clothes. A strange tingling feeling eased the headache.

SMii7y makes his way over to him, giving Kryoz a friendly smile. “Hey, you must be John, right? My new partner? I’m Jaren Smith, but some friends of mine call me SMii7y.” 

Kryoz nodded, taken off guard by how he presented himself completely different from what Kryoz had been imagining. “Yeah, actually a lot of people call you that, I didn’t even know your real name until now.” He did think that maybe he glanced at it in the file, but possibly skimmed past it. 

SMii7y chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Am I that popular?”

“The opposite, a lot of people hate you.”

He shrugged, flippant about the comment. “Have to deal with the like in this business.”

“Usually co-workers aren’t like that.”

“Then you haven’t worked with the people I’ve worked with,” SMii7y wrinkled his nose, “a bunch of assholes, I’m glad I got transferred.”

_ Withdrawn. _

“Are you going to stay any longer? Everyone left.” 

The other police officers were gone, and it was only him and SMii7y. Truthfully, he would’ve left the second he got the information, but he was waiting for his partner to arrive. And this introduction was less than ideal to him.

“Yeah, I have to head back to the office and file away some paperwork.” He was not looking forward to that in the least. He might even have someone else to do it for him, and maybe get another coffee.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” SMii7y said.

Kryoz nodded, “Alright. Did you walk here? I didn’t even notice your car.”

“No, I took a cab,” SMii7y said, following Kryoz. “We should get coffee before heading back to the office. I’d like to ask you some questions about the crash. You were here before me, right?”

So that’s why. “Yep. Sure, I’ll answer your questions.”

“Great.”

“What do you think of the inclusion of soulmates?” he asked Kryoz.

“Unnecessary,” Kryoz said, taking out his keys, and glancing up at SMii7y who stood on the other side, giving him a blank stare. “Oh. You mean for the...”

“Investigation,” SMii7y nodded. “At least I know how you feel about the concept of soulmates.”

He did not want to tell him how he actually felt about what he thought of soulmates. His bitterness to the concept poked and prodded him with questions of how it was even possible.

Why did fate have the choice of choosing for them? Why didn’t they? 

Soulmates. 

It was an unbearable part of their humanity, a force that pushed and pulled people who either didn’t want each other, or people who did. 

Kryoz started his car while SMii7y went on about soulmates. “They can be platonic, romantic, sexual, or anything else that could pertain to who they are as people.” He barely listened, and mostly fixed his thoughts on coffee and nothing more. “Sometimes the soulmate can come out of nowhere, making sure that certain people who are on different paths, match up, and that their energies or some other type of bullshit people with clairvoyance goes on about, fit together. They’re tuned to each other, and can heal certain bad energies, or whatever the shit. I’m not an expert on this.” 

There was still that strange feeling that came over him, it began to wrap itself around his body, seeping inside his skin, and with it, the warmth managed to fade the headache he’s been having for several weeks. 

“Apparently, if two or more people who are soulmates love each other unconditionally, they can bond with each other’s energies, negative or positive, yes, people who hate each other can become soulmates, but that’s another conversation I’m not getting into. When they bond, the other begins a phenomenon that allows the spirit or soul, whichever, to feel one another because of how matched up they are.” 

Kryoz nodded, barely listening to SMii7y rambling on as they left the street where the crime was committed. 

“That can also heal one another, mentally, physically, spiritually, and psychologically,” SMii7y grimaced, before his features smoothed out and he smiled at Kryoz, “or kill the other when the other dies, that is how connected they are too each other.”

Maybe he could finally think clearly now. 


	4. Paperwork & Research

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I was thinking about the short story in Ghost Town that pertained to this story, so if anyone read this before the edit of this chapter, then my bad. I'm sorry for that error. I should've known better, or at least realized what I was doing beforehand. :/ This chapter has been edited of the mistake, and cut down. :) I'm sorry.
> 
> Short story is in my Ghost Town collection - Chapter 17: Dead Body and a coffee Cup.

He isn’t sure where SMii7y went after they returned to RED. Kryoz went straight to his cubicle and sat down on his chair, letting out a sigh until both Anthony and Brian appeared. 

“How’d it go?” Anthony asked, grinning.

“How’d you think?” Kryoz asked. 

“Ryan told me you had a partner,” Brian said, arms folded, brow arched, “is it true?”

“It’s true.” Anthony nudged him. 

“I just want to get the whole truth from John.”

He didn’t even want to think about it. He finally met SMii7y after hearing many rumors about him, except he seemed perceptive, understanding, and annoying. All at the same time, and Kryoz didn’t even know how someone could be like that in such a short amount of time. The rumors were somewhat wrong, unless he’ll see the full picture by the end of the investigation, then Kryoz was barely inching his way into this bullshit. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he told them. 

“Come on,” Brian leaned down a bit, “it must be exciting...who is it?”

Kryoz glanced at Anthony then back at Brian. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Brian nodded, “So it’s someone obvious, just tell me, please.”

Anthony leaned against Brian and whispered a name and Brian’s eyes widened in utter shock and confusion. 

“No, holy fuck! Holy shit. Wow! John…”

“Please,” Kryoz pleaded, “I don’t want to talk about this."

Why did he have friends like these two. One of them was going to break. Maybe he shouldn’t have told anyone at all. It was better to keep his mouth shut about this, it was sensitive, and if his boss finds out about it, he also won’t shut up.

“How was the crime scene?” Anthony asked, finally changing the subject. 

“Two dead, one on the road, the other in a house taking care of their now orphaned child,” Kryoz said, picking up the file that landed on his desk by one of their passing coworkers. “I have a lot of fucking paperwork, so if you can go away and bother someone else.”

“Alright, see you later, John,” Brian waved and then he pushed Anthony to walk down the hallway to their own assigned desks. 

The thought of working on a soulmate investigation was difficult to pin down.

He’ll have to think more positively.

Kryoz opened the file and looked over the interviews he received from the investigations, and the pictures of the deceased. He asked many questions about how the soulmates knew one another, how long they dated before getting married, if they had known one another before their mark appeared, or was it instantaneous. He asked more basic questions: Age, gender, sexualities, other preferences. A few questions about their child, and that was it. 

He wrote on the margins with a red pen, and after a half hour passed by, he got up from his chair to look for a cup of coffee. He hoped someone made some in the break room. He couldn’t find Brian anywhere, but Anthony was standing down the hall, talking on the phone. Ryan had gone home early for a family emergency, and he did not want to talk to Tyler. 

He wanted to figure out the first murder and how it made a trail with the second. They were targeted for a reason, and he wanted to uncover it, and anyone who was connected to each individual that could become a suspect to their murders. 

He barely had enough information at the moment and will have to wait for the autopsy report to come in. He might even just look into tomorrow and go home. 

No one made coffee in the break room, and he stared at the empty pot with a sticky note on the machine. 

_Coffee shop down the street._

Kryoz sighed. Why didn’t anyone ever refill the coffee? 

He stepped into the hall and wondered for the briefest second where SMii7y was. They’re partners, shouldn’t they be working on this together? 

Anthony was no longer down the hall while Kryoz headed for the file room. He opened the door and stepped inside, letting the heavy door close shut behind him as the stuffy room with its endless silence cling to his coat. He sneezed as he walked down the corridor before going still at a subtle noise coming from his left. 

He quickened his pace to the end and turned down the left corridor before glancing down another before seeing several boxes off their shelves, and stacked six boxes high. He heard the sound of someone flipping paper and soft gasp, before they fell forward, hands placed on the floor and gaze turned toward him. 

SMii7y smiled at him. “Hey.”

Kryoz blinked, confused and a little shocked. “What are you doing in here?”

“Research,” SMii7y said, pushing himself back, the paper crinkling as Kryoz walked over to the boxes. It was a mess, all the files were out of order, and there was the distinct smell of dust, parchment, and a strong scent of coffee. 

Kryoz looked over the boxes and spotted a tray with three coffee cups. One of them was open and was lifted to SMii7y mouth. 

“Where have you been?” SMii7y asked him, glancing up with brown colored eyes.

Kryoz didn’t like how his heart stuttered, a shock but one that he didn’t show. He kept his attention on the cups. “Are those empty?” he asked, indicating the coffee’s.

SMii7y looked and smiled, “Want one? Someone didn’t refill the coffee pot, so I had to go out and get one.”

“One?” 

“A few.” SMii7y passed him the coffee.

It was lukewarm, but Kryoz could careless. He needed coffee. The taste, the subtle warmth that would’ve been better if it was a bit more hot, but he didn’t want to complain. 

“What were you doing all this time?” SMii7y asked, going back to looking at his papers, one of them had a recent coffee stain. 

“Paperwork.”

SMii7y grimaced, “Maybe I should’ve found you and dragged you in here.”

“It’s stuffy.”

“Yeah, but better than doing paperwork.”

Kryoz stepped over SMii7y mess of papers and sat down on the floor, crossing his legs as he watched SMii7y read. His hair was a mess, and he seemed concentrated on reading the files. 

“I would have ended up doing them anyways,” Kryoz said.

SMii7y glanced at him. “We should get donuts later.” He goes back to looking at the papers, humming softly to himself.

“What are your own thoughts about the case?” Kryoz asked, trying to ignore his own discomfort as he leaned his back against on of the shelves. 

“Trails…” SMii7y whispered, “I’ve been looking for old cases like this, not too old, maybe about ten years, five years, that sort of thing. I just want to make sure this is a new thing, not something old or whatever.” 

Kryoz listens to SMii7y ramble on, enjoying the squeezed in space of the shelves, the warm coffee in his hand, the strong smell of parchment and dust. And he can’t help but enjoy it, the small things as silence is cut through by SMii7y’s voice, his laugh, his smile.


	5. Coffee Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kryoz looks for SMii7y.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for fucking up, I wrote another chapter. Good thing my outline wasn't fully written or I would've had to rewrite everything. And yeah, my bad about the whole thing. LOL. It doesn't usually happen but people make mistakes. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.

It was brief, but he knew who it was when he saw them. Short brown hair, soft pale skin, an easy going smile. His voice was smooth, a murmur, and Kryoz recognized the sound even if he didn’t see the rest of his face. Then he woke up, and let out a groan, while trying to blink sleep from his eyes while staring at the ceiling, the sun was peeking through the blinds, leaving a soft yellow light upon the blanket and the wall.

Why was he dreaming about SMii7y?

Whenever he got dreams about other people, he dreamed of something a bit more...satisfying. This wasn’t satisfying. He recognized a bit of what was going on, and all it seemed to be was what they were doing yesterday in the file room. Sitting on the floor and talking while SMii7y organized the papers and stuffed them back in the boxes. He knew SMii7y wasn’t putting them back alphabetically, he was too focused on the conversation they were having. 

Thinking about it right now was static in his head, and Kryoz decided it was time to sit up. He pulled the blankets to the side and rubbed his eyes, glaring at the blinds that didn’t hide him from the morning sun. 

Kryoz got up and ambled out of the bedroom and entered the lone hallway that led to the kitchen. He turned on the coffee maker and glanced to his files sitting on the table. He received them before he left work the other day when he and SMii7y were finished in the filing room. 

He flipped open the file and frowned at what he was reading. There were photos from the autopsy, including the bullet. It was the same one that killed the first victim. There was even an update about the child that was left an orphan. She’s being kept under protection until the case is solved. 

Kryoz sighed, his mood becoming muddled as he turned around and grabbed a mug  and waited for the coffee. He wanted a moment to think about the case. He’d have to actually leave the office to find more information, and this time, he didn’t want SMii7y doing things himself. 

Kryoz almost laughed, he was getting too into this whole  _ partner _ thing. He was used to being alone, never having a partner, always staying in the office without speaking to too many people. He wanted to solve this, to stop it from happening, but they didn’t have many clues to go on, and this time, he’ll have to do something about that. 

Once the coffee was finished, he dropped a few sugar cubes into his cup and stirred carefully after almost filling the coffee to the brim. He closed his eyes, leaning against the counter, and smelled the coffee. There was a deep content to this simple moment, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself not so tired anymore, and there’s a brief thought before taking a sip, reading the report, that his headache was also gone. 

After, he left his apartment and headed to work. There was always the rhythm of going to work, sitting with the dust and stuffiness of the office, and the too bright lights and the deep hum coming from the computer hard drive, while some of his co-workers would bother him, their voices becoming static in his ears until the day bled away, and he would head home. 

Now he was thinking of the case, the thought of what they were going to do, and where they were going after he finds SMii7y. There’s a guy he needed to find, and the cold weather of autumn did not help. The crisp wind forced a shudder throughout his body after he got out of his car and walked toward the building.

He pushed open the glass door on the side, and took out a keycard that unlocked another door that led into the stuffy hall. The one area of the building he did not miss, but he did hear the familiar sound of the office, and the strong smell of coffee, ink, and cleaning products. 

He spotted Brock while Kryoz set his bag down and walked over to him, “Do you know where SMii7y is?” He needed to find him before he randomly disappears. If Brock didn’t know, he’ll have to check the filing room. 

Brock looked up, a friendly smile plastered on his face. “Hey, uh, he’s in the shooting range.” 

Kryoz grit his teeth. “Thanks.” 

He meandered out of the office and down the hall toward the elevator. The door opened smoothly and he stood inside. He tapped his foot as he waited while staring at the number. Once the door opened, a few police officers walked in while he slipped by and headed down the dim hall until he entered the shooting range. A muffled sound of a gun going off rang close as Kryoz glanced toward a few empty tables, a vending machine of chips and chocolate, and a familiar investigator of another division was standing before the glass window. 

“Hey, Evan,” Kryoz said, walking over to him. 

Evan glanced over his shoulder and gave him a half smile. “Hey. You’re late.”

“I’m not,” Kryoz said, standing beside him. He spotted SMii7y inside the range wearing the standard black ear muffs, his stance steadied while he fired a pistol. There were two others standing several feet away, but out of them, SMii7y was better.

Evan seemed quiet, his expression sullen, and he noticed Kryoz peering at him and he forced a smile. “I found my soulmate.” 

That was surprising to hear. “You did?” 

Evan nodded, pulling his sleeve up and showing him a mark, swirls with a strike through it. He covered it and looked back at the shooting range, growing dull again. “I didn’t expect it.”

“No one ever does,” Kryoz said. “Congrats though, most people go there whole lives without finding their soulmate.”

Evan laughed dryly. “I’m not so sure, not now anyways.”

Kryoz nods, understanding Evan’s discomfort. His opinion of a soulmate hadn’t changed, even though he was on a case about it.

He watched SMii7y a bit more as he fired the gun and hit the target. He was good, a lot more than Kryoz expected. A few more times and then SMii7y stopped, waving at the two people, but Kryoz does notice the arrogant smile on his face. He set the gun down and walked out of the range. 

“Leaving?” Evan asked. 

“Yeah,” Kryoz said, and he stepped to the side at the same time SMii7y walked through the threshold, and their eyes met. SMii7y smiled and took off the glasses, including the ear muffs. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you were here,” SMii7y said as Kryoz walked over to him. “Brian said you were usually late.”

Kryoz frowned. “I’m not.”

“It’s eight,” SMii7y said, glancing up at him, “you should’ve been in at six-thirty.” 

Six-thirty. He might have to talk to Tyler about that.

“I’m not late.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not.”

SMii7y chuckled as they headed down the hall, “Okay, I’m fine with it, but if you want, I can come get you. I’m usually awake at five.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Five,” Kryoz said, brows creasing, “why are you awake at five in the morning?”

SMii7y yawned, and then pressed the button to the elevator. “I don’t know, but we should get coffee before we start work.”

“I have to speak to a guy,” Kryoz said when the doors opened and they stepped inside the elevator. No one else was inside which was fine with him, he needed to speak to his partner and no one else. 

“Outside of work?” SMii7y asked, hands tucked in his coat pockets. 

Kryoz nodded, absentmindedly. “Yeah.” He hoped they were still in their favorite spot. If not, then they’ll have to look somewhere else, if he can remember their other smoking areas. 

“I think it’s because of yesterday,” SMii7y began as they left the elevator, “but I had a dream about you.”

He might even have to look for their friends, if he can find them. It’s been months since he asked for their help. 

“We should get coffee somewhere else,” SMii7y said, steering Kryoz toward the glass door. “I’m not sure why, but no one knows how to make coffee in this place.”

“They never do,” Kryoz says, reaching for his keys inside his coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love coffee, I love to include it!


End file.
